


Can't not be her

by Minkey222



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Self-Harm, Steven Universe Future, Stream of Consciousness, this boy needs therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:09:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22146211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkey222/pseuds/Minkey222
Summary: Ugh.Steven threw himself on the bed, ignoring the way that the wooden slats groaned under the force, and sighed.He couldn’t talk to any of them, he never could.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 200





	Can't not be her

**Author's Note:**

> I was in a total slump for writing, you if you know me you know how I like angst and my goodness, SU: Future gave me a treasure trove to work with and I couldn't write anything. Then I churned this piece of shit out. Guess it's a bit of a vent.  
> Someone please get this boy some therapy.  
> Please read, enjoy and review.

Ugh.

Steven threw himself on the bed, ignoring the way that the wooden slats groaned under the force, and sighed. 

He couldn’t talk to any of them, he never could.

He means, sure, when he was younger he would go to them when he was sad, but it was trivial things- the discontinuing of his favourite sweets, the cancelling of his favourite show, minor things that held no significance when he thought back about it. It kinda makes him cringe when he thinks about the way that he used to be, when he thinks about that little kid who thought his powers were controlled by an ice cream sandwich he gets sad and angry and everything in between, he thinks ‘how cruel the world that he’s turned into  _ this _ ’ and ‘how dare  _ she _ leave him behind to deal with her mistakes’ and ‘how could he have been so dumb, young, naive,  _ stupid _ to think that everything would end up okay’. It takes him a few minutes, breathing deeply in and out, clenching his fists (ignoring the ache of the cactus spines that had embedded themselves in his skin) to suppress the growing pink, bubbling up and burning his insides like acid eating its way through his skin, from the inside out.

He could change.

He needed to change.

Everything needed to change.

Nothing could change though.

Nothing  _ ever  _ changed.

He couldn’t go to them, any of them and he knows he never could.

He never went to them about anything important. He never went to them about  _ her _ . It always seemed to be about  _ her _ \- everything was about  _ her _ . Sure, when he was smaller he tried to broach the topic, back when he didn’t know enough, back when he was bright eyed and full of hope, wonder and optimism and he was filled was a deep, deep longing for a mother, and a deep, deep guilt at the longing all together. But it never worked, never got deep enough, never got to spill that overflowing pot of emotions. The thought of Pearl’s flitting look filled with resentment, maybe at him, maybe not, and the thought of Amethyst’s glare of a mix of envy and something else entirely, and then there’s Garnet- Garnet would steel herself away behind her visor and in her head, pushing her aching wound of a heart down, deep down become a shell of herself entirely, Ruby and Sapphire silently arguing. 

This image, this thought of his family being so wounded and empty and damaged just by- just by his presence, by the knowledge that they could never have her back and that they’d be stuck with  _ him _ from now on- this thought made him take a step back, take a deep breath and any words that had been threatening coming up, up, up and spilling out had been squashed down so violently and forcefully and Steven was never sure if he’d ever find the words again.

And don’t even get him started on his dad. He loved his dad, God, he loved his dad so much his body ached with it. Steven didn’t deserve how good he had it with his dad. But he couldn’t help that traitorous spike of irritation and depression and being disgusted with himself for taking his dad for granted. He couldn’t go to his dad about this, about any of it because if he started talking, if he started to allow the words to melt and ooze and seep out of every crack and crevice in him then he knows that the stream of loathing and rage and grief and resentment and despair and yearning and self-hatred and pure  _ heartache _ would never end, it would just flow and drag down everyone in its path. Steven can see his dad’s face in his mind’s eye. His dad’s knowledge that his  _ baby _ , his  _ son _ was so unhappy, so angry, so full of such a volatile mix and so full of resentment towards the woman that he had loved. His dad’s knowledge that Steven didn’t want the life that he had worked so hard to help create and nurture and love- the knowledge that Steven didn’t need, didn’t want him any more. 

That knowledge would break him.

Steven could never do that. Never.

When Steven was younger, he thought he could handle it. He thought he could be grown up, deal with his own problems, thought he could keep it inside. As Steven grew up, he kept up this practice and it was fine, he was  _ fine _ but- but then he found out.

He found out everything.

Everything, every answer he had ever wanted to know. He knew it all.

He wishes he didn’t. 

He wishes he could take it all back.

He wishes he could empty his head of everything that he ever learned.

He wishes that he could be normal-

Because normal would be so much better than this. 

The knowledge that he got about  _ her _ and everything  _ she’d  _ done.

  
The weight of her guilt threatened to crush him, squish him and shatter him into a million tiny pieces.

The knowledge of what  _ she  _ had done, who  _ she _ really was, locked him deep within his own head.

Knowing what he knew, Steven knew he could never talk to any of them about any of it. 

How could he? He could he possibly bear to face them when he knew all that they could see was her.

And he tried, tried so hard to not be  _ her _ but everywhere he goes, everything he does, everything he tries to be- he can’t not be  _ her _ . He sees  _ her _ in every mistake, every fit of temper, he sees  _ her _ in every traumatised gem, the crack in volleyballs’ eyes, in Jasper’s distance, in Pearl’s strained look, in Amethyst’s pained face, in Garnet’s stoic silence- pink clouds his view in every breath, flowing in his veins, attached to his cells and embedded in his skin.

Steven rolls onto his back.

The moonlight reflects off of his gem and pink refractions glitter across his ceiling.

Steven scrunches his eyes shut. His fingers scrabbling against the join where gem meets flesh. 

  
Steven can feel the subtle ridges and rises of scars. Some from White diamond, he long nails not caring for the delicate flesh of a human, not when  _ she _ was within reach, and some- some were his own, his fingernails drawing blood as he wakes from yet another nightmare, sleep and breath evading him as the stars continue blinking off distantly in the sky- more of them were him sat alone in the bathroom, anything sharp, trying to pry himself apart once more, and in failing that, trying to make him feel something, anything, pain to atone for  _ her  _ sins and more importantly  _ his  _ sins. These scars aren't exclusive to his gem. They scattered his skin, anywhere he can reach, anywhere that wouldn’t expose, anywhere that would be private to him and him alone. Shoulders, hips, ankles. He tries to make himself pay when others won't. When they tell him it isn’t his fault. That it was  _ her _ not  _ him _ .

They forget that  _ she  _ is  _ him _ now.

God, he’s confronted with that fact every time he feels something and the pint comes up, up, up and explodes out of him, taking out anyone in the area.

Steven feels that these days all he can do is hurt people.

He wonders what happened to that little boy who saw the good in everyone. The little boy who just wanted to help.

A tear drips down his cheek. Steven shoves his fist in his mouth. He bites down hard.

There was nothing left of that little boy anymore.

Steven needed to be needed. That was a flaw of his being. 

No one needed him now though. 

Amethyst was happy running her GHEM project, Pearl was enjoying being a teacher, Garnet was married now, they didn’t need him. Peridot and Lapis were living life together, both had grown so much more than Steven could have ever imagined and they continued to grow every day without him. The Diamonds had Spinel now, little homeworld didn’t need him. Sadie had Shep and the band had broken up and Lars was back in space, even Connie was out living life. 

None of them needed Steven anymore.

Steven needed them.

He could never talk to them though.

Cactus Steven had proven it. That ugly, mutated representation of him had shown him just how ugly and awful and disgusting his mind really was, how harmful his thoughts were.

For just a moment there had been sweet, sweet relief, Steven had vented and even though it was a mimicry of true emotional release, it had been something. But then he thought back to Pearl, Amethyst, Garnet’s broken faces and Cactus Steven had dissected Steven’s innermost thoughts and as he stood in the whipping breeze of the ocean air pouring in through the destroyed walls of his home he vowed that that was it. 

He had said enough.


End file.
